


Work It Through, Smooth It Out

by Nevanna



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Past Abuse, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trish suggests that Jessica seek counseling.  It goes more or less as well as she hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work It Through, Smooth It Out

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is for **redbrunja** on LiveJournal.
> 
> The title is from "This Town Is Wrong" by the Nields, and Jay Rachel Edidin gets the credit for pointing out how perfect that song is for Jessica and Trish.

“Hey, there.” Trish shuts and locks the door behind her. “Did you eat yet?”

“Ordered out.” Jessica doesn’t look up from the game that she’s playing on her phone. “I got some of that noodle soup that you like. It’s in the fridge, full of life-giving bean sprouts and sunshine.”

“Thanks,” Trish says. “I’m sure you kept it wrapped in plastic so you didn’t get contaminated.” 

“You know it.”

Trish kisses the top of Jessica’s head and sits down beside her on the couch. “I need to talk to you about something. Try not to get too pissed off, okay?”

Now Jessica does raise her eyes. “All of a sudden, I’m _oh_ so eager to hear it.”

Trish pulls her own phone from her purse, pulls up the site that she’s bookmarked, and holds it out. “This is only a suggestion, okay? After what happened the other night, I couldn’t just…”

Jessica takes one look at the screen, and her glare deepens. “Couldn’t just… what?” she asks. “Couldn’t stay out of my business?”

“Jess, your nightmares were never that bad before.” Trish reaches out to touch Jessica’s knee, but then pulls her hand back. “You know that I’ll always be in your corner, just like you were always in mine. But I’m not a professional therapist.” And even if she were, she knows from experience with several needy exes, who were hoping that she’d play that role in their lives, that it’s not a good mix. “I already sent you the link to her website.”

“You found a shrink who specializes in mind-controlling monsters? I’m impressed.”

“She specializes in PTSD, especially with survivors of domestic abuse.” Jessica snorts, as she always does when she thinks she’s hearing jargon. “And if you don’t like her, you can get a referral,” Trish continues. In the shower, at the gym, and on her way upstairs, she rehearsed everything that she was going to say. It’s time for her to address the big, green elephant in the room. “I’m good to pay for your sessions, too.”

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’ve already made an appointment for me.”

“I don’t even know if that’s legal,” Trish admits. “And either way, I’d never decide something like that for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’ve made one yourself.”

“What makes you think she’ll believe me?” Jessica demands. “Best-case scenario: she tells me that I’m having some kind of delusion because I’ve got control issues, or guilt, or because my daddy didn’t hug me enough. Worst case: I end up pumped full of drugs in some psych ward.”

“We’re living in a different world now,” Trish points out. “After what happened around Stark Tower, people are a lot more open-minded… no pun intended.”

“The last thing that I want is someone else trying to get into my head,” Jessica grumbles, but she shifts her position so that her shoulder is pressed against Trish’s own. “I don’t hate that you’re looking out for me, though.”

Trish gives her a gentle nudge. “I don’t hate that you’re letting me.”


End file.
